


Starwatcher in the Night

by Fizonafan



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Aromantic OC, Fluff and Angst, It gets cleared up though don't worry, It's self-indulgent hours, Miscommunication, Multi, Tags May Change, The creator projects a lot, The creator simps for Tim, We're writing an OC insert fic, found family time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fizonafan/pseuds/Fizonafan
Summary: And you feel the cool current of electricity give way to the warm caress of company.
Relationships: The Mechanisms Ensemble/The Mechanisms Ensemble
Comments: 16
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the most self indulgent thing I've ever made but if you're here you probably already know that. I have two more chapters of this written and maybe I'll upload them if people are interested but we'll see.
> 
> When does this occur in canon? Fuck knows. Pre Out I guess (also Out legitimately made me cry). Also like, I know Scuzz exists but I don't know how so they're not here rip.
> 
> Content warning for second person perspective and canon typical mentions of violence.
> 
> Title from the song 'Starwatcher' by The Decemberists (Which fun fact! Would also be the basis of my boy's backstory song)

***

1

***

It isn't cold.

The loneliness, that is.

You expected a temperature to be associated.

But, no.

It's just sort of, present. An observable weight with no feeling.

Something you wouldn't expect to get used to until you do.

At the same moment as the feeling becomes usual, time stops mattering as well. And when you realise your ageing has stopped too, you don't bother to track it, anymore.

So when you think to yourself, it's been a while, you don't actually know how long that is.

You know you were born here, raised here. Then the station needed help. Except all those who tried weren’t good enough. 

A whole colony and you were the only one.

Although, you did get a bit of help yourself to be so.

She sort of, just appeared one day? The system had been demanding host after host for long enough that only yourself and two others remained.

When she offered her solution it just made sense for you to be the one.

  
  
  
  


Pain.

And then.

  
  
  
  


Energy. Coursingandpumpingthroughyou. 1000, 10,000, 100,000 meters per second. Fasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfaster. 6 million meters per second. Your heart no longer simply beats but _vibrates_.

You.

Can.

Feel.

It.

All.

So no. It isn't cold.

And the weight.

The load of the power bank strapped and embedded and becoming your spine, wired through and around every nerve.... Isn't actually that heavy anymore.

So now and before and yesterday and tomorrow and always, you keep the system running.

You don't know what happened to the doctor or the other two but they aren't here anymore. You don't care. You do.

Nothing here but the void of space outside the station. The sparking, shifting, burning, dying light of stars that you watched and watch and will watch forever.

You marvel at their beauty, the only thing that changes in this place, because you don't, and the station doesn't. It's a sight you cannot grow tired of.

You fill your minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millennia with noting the positions and patterns of these flickering illuminations.

As hobbies go, it's comfortingly time consuming. It becomes your usual.

***

Sometimes, you decide you want to feel.

You pad through the empty halls bare foot, the thrumming beat of the system's scanning, receiving, processing and delivery automation passing through your soul soles.

Sometimes you decide you don’t.

When you realise the absolute zero of space can’t kill you, the weight of protective gear is unnecessary. The quiet of clinging to the exterior, a single finger grip keeping you from drifting (and you've thought about it, think about it) is possibly the most comfortable position you have found, find, will find yourself.

It's as far as you can get. The calmest the crackle can be.

***

It's almost like you Feel the stars change when the ship approaches. You Know it is here.

Its movement is obvious, jarring in its speed against the regularity of your records. This isn't a travel route. Nothing but the cargo comes here. No sentience but you.

But they did.

You don't remember how to signal it. The panic fills your mind and seizes your heart when you consider someone getting so close but still too far.

What if they don't notice?

You didn’t need to worry. They're coming straight for you.

With something to track, time comes back to you. Almost. It takes them 3......weeks? 

They send the first signal, thank Gods.

They don't seem to expect a reply.

The voice that comes through on the second message is.

Pretty.

Decidedly masculine but nonetheless.

Pretty.

If you think about it a bit too much, well that's nobody’s business but your own.

You don't exactly have a metric for your next observation either.

Nonetheless.

The ship is pretty too.

One more week after the messages begin she sends a pod with three crew members and they dock in the cargo port on floor seven.

You've forgotten what presentable was. Do you cover your spine? Your coat bulges over it, singed at the collar. You put on shoes.

They are. Eclectic.

Scarred and pockmarked, and are those wings?

Your self-consciousness rapidly flies out the window.

They are looking for the doctor, he says.

(That isn't His voice. Hmm, pity).

You tell them she's gone.

The winged woman squints at you and your thrumming nerves fire up under the scrutiny. The smaller woman approaches and asks you to pull aside your collar.

The three share A Look.

***

You don't know what to pack. He jokes the clothes on your back aren't ‘the vibe’ anyway, they'll fix you up at the next market port apparently.

You take your maps.

The pod doesn't have belts, hell it doesn't have seats. That doesn't seem to bother them.

The man punches the return button and...

Hold on, you should probably ask their names right?

Right.

These three, Jonny, Ivy and Raphaella.

The pod re-docks.

Noises outside, voices, a bang, and then the hatch opens.

And oh,

He's really quite pretty, isn't he? (Well if you think about it, they all are in their own little ways…)

These five, Brian, Nastya, Ashes, Marius and Tim.

And the crumpled form on the floor that's slowly reconstructing is The Toy Soldier apparently.

They ask your name in return and isn’t that a novelty? No one’s asked for so long and-

-Oh,

You forgot.

***

You settle in, quickly? They don't seem to keep track of time either. At least, not linearly.

The noise is

A lot.

And the violence.

  
  
  


Nastya gives you a room and Ivy gets you comfortable with uploading and compiling your maps.

She keeps you company. You bond over your respective academic hyper fixations. She teaches you a lot of words to describe what you experience and have experienced. 

She is the quietest, the easiest to just have around.

It only makes sense for you to take up a navigation role. Well almost, seeing as there’s already a pilot on board. It’s really just more cartography.

And Ivy gives you a name to go along with it.

Starwatcher Edward.

Jonny calls you Eddy almost immediately. You shoot him dead a couple times. It seems to be the only way he expresses affection anyway.

It grows on you. The name that is, but the murder too.

Somehow the nickname morphs and they’ll add on Starboy depending on their level of inebriation.

  
  
  


To that point though, Tim teaches you how to actually shoot. The vicious light behind his eyes as he wields his weapons just makes him,

Prettier.

Hmm.

Anyway.

He gives you a taser at Jonny's suggestion and calls it ironic.

That's okay though, not sure where you are with permanently murdering mortals yet.

  
  
  


Ashes warms to you quickly, and oh, that's a pun isn't it? You absorb their humour just as fast and spit it back at them and everyone else, sarcasm dripping from your tongue like oil.

They’re the one who asks when you'll join the band, because that's what they all do, isn't it? You tell them you can't play anything.

  
  
  


It's Brian who teaches you an instrument in the end. He tells you it's because he's tired of having to pick one whenever they go on stage. You privately wonder why he plays so many anyway.

He gives you a choice of strings or percussion and you pick banjo because,

Hmm.

You pick banjo.

You end up trading the drum box with him every now and then anyway. It's easier for him to stand in front of the microphone when he needs to.

You don't sing yet.

  
  
  


Nearer to the start of your voyage is when you spent the most time with Marius and Raphaella. They take notes and scans of what the good doctor did to you. Marius practices his psychoanalysis.

Raphaella spends some time holding increasingly flammable items up to you to see how volatile your sparks are. In the end, they’re actually rather underwhelming results. 

The first time she goes (unintentionally) flying, her unexpectedly sturdy mechanism jolting violently from the shock makes her laugh. The next five times not so much. She learns to handle you with gloves when you get a bit too excited.

  
  
  


It takes you longer than you'd like to admit to realise who's been whispering to you. What has? Who has.

Aurora is kind. It's overwhelming really how much she cares. The others express surprise the first time they see you talking to her, your feet bare again, palms pressed to the walls. This thrum is different from your old home. She is warm.

Nastya goes cold, so you ask Aurora about her.

And.

Oh!

Jealousy?

Of course when you realise you apologise, explain your intentions and move on, the two of you somehow closer from the conflict. Now when you talk to Aurora and someone catches you, it becomes a bit of a joke.

Stop trying to steal her girlfriend!

  
  
  


And then there's The Toy Soldier.

It's? Interesting. You don't quite understand Jonny's animosity toward it, but maybe you're just enthralled by its angelic voice. You apparently got over the unnerving feeling its unchanging face gives everyone faster than the others. You pin it up to the period of time you spent drawing smiles on the walls and doors.

***

The time comes for your first performance.

We'll give you an easy crowd, Tim says, binding the hostages tightly.

And you get it.

The energy of the stage is different to the energy of your body, but it meshes well and you find yourself floating through the performance, riding the wave of Jonny's manic anger, Ashes' cool exterior, The Toy Soldier's vibrant flamboyance.

You let your sparks fly.

It makes their noise easier.

Apparently this crowd is responsive enough to live.

***

It's not long (or is it?) till Jonny asks you for your story. You know why of course; the band needs more tales to tell.

It's just.

You haven't told anyone yet.

You almost know why.

The loneliness was yours for so long. Giving it to someone else?

At your hesitance he does the one thing he knows how, takes you planet-side and gets you hammered at the first bar you see.

One of his murderous rampages later, and the two of you are locked up in a too small cell with hangovers to deal with, and too much time on your hands.

He picks sinews from between his teeth and stares you down. You jolt and fizzle under his gaze.

You tell him later you would have come around eventually.

He laughs and says it was the experience he was after as well. That you needed a run out too.

***

In between your travels and continued cartography (and really it's quite a struggle when the stars aren't moving at the same speed, or are they?), the two of you write the song.

No one asks, but you contemplate whether this will be the first one you sing.

One evening, afternoon, dawn you ask Ivy for her opinion. She doesn't sing either is the thing, and you trust her opinion to be fair.

She tells you to go with your gut and well,

That was unexpected.

Nastya doesn't sing either.

She says the same thing.

Hmm.

Tim finds you splayed on the hallway floor, deep in conversation with Aurora, not at all present in your body, besides the sizzling crackle over and under your skin of course.

He sits and waits for you to finish.

Aurora, amused, doesn't alert you for another hour, just to see how long he'll stay.

You shoot up when she finally does, apologizing profusely.

Tim just smiles.

Oh.

Hmm.

Right.

He says you have a good voice, that he’d like to hear it more and he stands and walks away.

***

You sing it.

It's just you in the beginning. Your voice ringing through the microphone and over the silent crowd. Telling your quiet story.

Then, a lilting flute tune on the second verse.

Gently plucked guitar strings soon after.

Slowly, slowly the others join the song, instruments and voices rising.

And then the heat in your nerves is drowned by the warmth of your family's embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self care can get difficult when you don't think you need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's back! Featuring, self discovery, bad self-care practice (don't worry he gets better), and copious amounts of caffeine.
> 
> Also, I feel like I should note that there's just so much headcanon content and opinions here and I'd appreciate if anyone had info on if anything here directly contradicts the lore. But y'all I have OPINIONS. And maybe some of this is ooc? Other note which is gonna become relevant in the next chapter a bit more, this is very certainly about the fictional characters okay?

***

2

***

It's Marius that comes knocking when the boredom breaks him. Apparently sitting in the same uninhabited solar system for... how long has it been?

Oh. Two months apparently. You didn't even know anyone kept track of that kind of thing.

He says normally they wouldn't, but he got so bored he bothered Nastya (who asked Aurora) just so he could come complain to you.

You try and explain just what is so interesting (it's a quaternary system! The gravitational effect on the movement of the stars! And why weren’t you all just in stasis any-) but he isn't hearing any of it.

So you fold, gently setting aside this section of the map you were working on and shuffle through the sheaves of nearby systems until you find something sufficiently interesting for him.

When you show him where you want to go, he bursts into hysterics immediately. He's incomprehensible for a moment but you manage to hear Tim's name somewhere in the mess. 

You crouch down and lay and hand on the smooth metal of the hull, gently ask Aurora to wake up, and give her the directions.

Marius doesn't deign to explain his reaction but you don't bother asking any more. You reason with yourself, what could possibly be so interesting about Earth?

***

You really don't know how you went so long locked away with your ink and paper. Usually the steady increase of your tremor would have sent you searching for sustenance a few weeks in but apparently Tim's advice with the rubber band was enough to stretch the time. 

Interesting. You file the skill away as ammunition to use against Ivy and her ever growing exasperation. She doesn’t seem to get your insistence to avoid the digital mapping.

When Marius drags you to the common space designated to meal times (except sometimes for Jonny. Apparently a vote was cast long ago that he wouldn't be allowed anywhere near anyone else when his... preferences made themselves known), there is a resounding cheer through the room. They've all been waiting, it seems.

He lives! Someone exclaims, and the raucous laughter soon follows.

Nastya tosses you a rehydratable. Where we headed, Starboy?

You give a token grimace at the name but nonetheless inform them all, stepping over and dropping the cube into its container.

More laughter and a gentle descent into recalled memories but you notice one voice missing and glance back.

You lock eyes with Tim almost immediately, his furrowed expression creasing his  ~~ handsome ~~ face. You tilt your head in query, and approach the table again with the unnerving smoking of your meal in your hands at the back of your mind.

Apparently too far back. The synthetic container slips from your trembling hands and clatters to the floor.

You jolt (internally and externally) at the noise and the impact of your landing is too much. Your legs give out too.

All of this happens in the space of a few seconds but it's still long enough for Brian and The TS to appear by your sprawled form, Tim and Ivy only halfway out of their seats.

The usual background sizzle of your mechanism makes itself known at a much higher volume, and it clicks that it's probably the only thing keeping you alive right now.

Woops.

***

The Toy Soldier hefts you over its shoulder and doesn't set your down until you get to the medbay. Despite your protests, Brian's Order outranks your own and you end up petulantly grumbling that you're fine for the whole ride.

It's only later when Marius has left you with a supplemental drip and a threat to strap you down that Tim visits.

He smiles  ~~ that gentle smile that makes you go gooey, so different from his bloodthirsty one ~~ and says he figures it's time enough for you to hear his tale.

He says it's actually a song and wonders aloud why you haven't heard it yet.

When he finishes his story you let the silence ring for a moment. Then very quietly you ask if he'd rather go somewhere else.

He's quick to reassure you that it's fine, but suggests you go to one of the prior centuries to his own. Apparently you've got quite a few fans in the early 21st.

You let Aurora know about the change of plans and then you rest.

***

Jonny insists on more rehearsals once you've recovered, you can't disappoint your loyal following now can you?

You are both looking forward to and dreading an audience that actually knows what you're supposed to sound like. You agree to the extra sessions without hesitation, the only thing that can truly distract you from your maps.

***

The country you end up in is wonderful. You've always loved watching the fleeting mortals in their daily plights and this place just seems to highlight their petty grievances.

Ashes tells you it's called England.

They call everyone together and say there are 3 days before your first gig. They set you free to wander in the meantime. Apparently that’s only enough time to stay on this continent, so Jonny, Marius and Ashes themself immediately head off to Amsterdam. As always, Nastya stays with Aurora and Ivy and Raphaella stay put too. Brian and The Toy Soldier wonder off god knows where.

Before you can think, Tim grabs your hand and drags you sightseeing, claiming his proficiency as a citizen.

In actuality of course he's from more than a millennia in the future and has probably been here just as much as any other member of the crew. 

You're not complaining.

So yes, you do all the usual tourist things and after the first day and night (and oh this is what nightclubs are) you're buzzing in a comfortable way from the company and the events and realise you're actually hungry.

Tim tries taking you to some horrid looking chippy (it's tradition!) but your gaze is drawn to the green building to its left. 

At your enquiry he tells you they make coffee.

At your  _ next  _ enquiry he tells you coffee is a drink that mortals consume for energy.

I mean it's got ‘star’ in the name and they sell energy, if he was expecting you to go anywhere else he really doesn't know you well now does he?

He orders for you and the staff give both of you Looks the whole time.

The steaming polystyrene cup is warm in your grip and the smell is intoxicating in a different way to alcohol.

It is.... Not great, to be honest. You grimace and Tim laughs at your face, tells you it's a bit of an acquired taste, and dumps a few packets of sugar in your cup.

You make it halfway through rather slowly before...

Oh shit.

The usually controlled bolts suddenly begin arching off your skin in jagged waves. Wide eyed you try and gently place the cup back down but the shaking is back and oh no food is supposed to stop this! You grip it tighter instead, determined to not make a scene (not like you already are or anything).

Tim's hands come to rest over your own and the effect is immediate. The shaking is minimised but now the bolts are striking to the closest place of grounding, radiating out from your feet and hands and directly into Tim where his fingers wind around yours.

You look up and he is very obviously trying not to react but you know how vicious the miniature lightning can be and try to pull away.

He shakes his head (oh fuck is it so painful he can't even speak?) and pries the cup from you grip first before letting go.

Well that's out of the way but you're still vibrating and emitting sparks and the other patrons are very clearly becoming distressed and the panic that is setting in is only making it worse.

Of course Tim notices, pulls out his gun and fires it at the first thing that approaches. That clears the place pretty effectively.

He stands and you do the same. It becomes immediately apparent that your legs are not going to hold you, the tremor running through them unbearable without leaning heavily against the table.

You take a steadying breath and step back.

You are falling.

And then you are not.

Tim's grip on you is firm (but that could just be from the muscles tensing) and he barely staggers under your weight. He hoists one of your arms over his shoulder and you look up again to thank him.

The sight of his hair standing on end would be hilarious if it wasn't overshadowed by the very obvious and incredible pain on his face.

The two of you manage to stagger out the door and he only shoots three people for getting in the way (but that's probably because his fingers seize up soon after).

***

How you make it back to Aurora, neither of you can say.

Ivy and Raphaella rush out, the latter clad in thick rubber gloves. Ivy scoops up Tim and Raph grabs you before he can drop you. You both crumple immediately, the ladies stumbling slightly under the sudden dead weight. 

They drag you inside, Ivy carting Tim off to the medbay and Raphaella fighting to control her convulsing wings on the way to her lab.

Later, when Raphaella has left you to wait out your come down, Ivy comes to check up on you. You're feeling quite dizzy and a little disoriented and the only thing you can think about is how Tim helped you despite his own discomfort. You'd later say it was akin to being rather inebriated. In that perfect place between honesty and incoherence.

So you don't think you can be blamed when, as soon as you recognise your best friend, you start spouting all sorts of nonsense. Frankly you don't remember most of it, something about enjoying the buzz and despising your tremor and it making it feel like too much is in there but apparently you also said quite a bit else.

***

It's a few days after your performance when this comes to a head. You had gone seeking her out, arms full of rolled up maps to upload.

She's waiting when you arrive at her desk in the library, book in hand as usual, but when she notices your approach she snaps it closed and reaches blindly toward a nearby stack of files.

Wait wait! I have a reminder for you!

You do so patiently, impressed and endeared as ever at her ability to keep track of all her little reminders. When she first explained how her reset worked you had felt an incredible sense of pity, but now you simply admire her focus despite her memory based shortcomings.

She rifles through until she finds a folder with two words scribbled across the front.

'Edward aro?' Hmm, a new word maybe? Sometimes she likes to give you the etymology along with it, but this is a pretty thick file. She flicks it open and there’s red ink scrawled in corners and you know it’s not just a word.

Here we go! I wanted to ask if you identified as aromantic? Or if you had heard the phrase before.

It occurs to you that this is probably a rather blunt question but you've grown rather used to them when they come from her. You tell her that you've never heard it before.

And then she explains. She connects every piece of evidence that you apparently told her those few days ago like the catalogue she is. And with every word your whole world feels like it's slotting into place.

Huh.

***

You’d think after all that trauma you’d probably never touch coffee again, right? Or at least after the torrential stream of berating you got from Raph?

Nope.

The next time you’re stopped at a human colony you sneak off and grab a cup. This time though, you wait until you're back in the privacy of your quarters before you down the whole thing in one go. You reason that it’s cooled down enough and you don’t want to bother with the acrid taste.

While you wait for it to set in, you clear a small space, shuffling and re-rolling papers into their designated tubes (and you realise this is not what you expected to finally clean your room for). You also decide to fling off your waistcoat and shoes again, and then strip out of your shirt, struggling for a moment with the copious belts. With most of your layers removed you stand and wait. You want to see as much of the glow under and over your skin as possible. You drag over your mirror too so you can watch your spine's reaction.

It feels like it takes a little longer this time, but maybe that’s just because you have nothing to do but pace in your small, paperless oasis.

The tremor starts up first and you clench your fists a couple times to keep it at bay. Aurora whispers her alarm but you brush her off. This time you notice the thrum of your rising heart rate and the slowly increasing volume of the whir of your spine. Soon enough, the small sparks begin to radiate out from the mechanism and curl around your back, making small arcs across your limbs and bouncing between your fingers.

There is an uncomfortable warmth coming from your legs. You bunch up your skirt and lock your knees and watch the light melt through the synthetic fibers of your tights.

Woops.

And then Raphaella and Nastya barrel through the door, raving and asking you what you think you’re doing. Raph keeps yelling but Nastya pretty quickly covers her eyes. In fact Raph is so caught up in her rage it takes Nastya slapping her shoulder to notice your state of undress.

She goes red, turns around, and keeps yelling.

Through all this, you gently lower yourself to the floor, your knees starting to give way. At no point do you grab your shirt though, deciding to see how long you can fuck with them. Aurora’s amusement rings through the back of your mind.

As a first  ~~ second ~~ test goes, you’d call it a success.

***

When you use the word ‘experiment’ to describe what you are doing, Raphaella does a complete 180. She shoots off and comes back an hour later to drag you down to her lab where you find a 5 kilo bag of beans, an espresso machine, and a quivering human barista.

You’d ask why she didn’t just figure out the machine herself but honestly you can’t be bothered.

Another 10 minutes later and she has to throw you into the lead cage. And give you some new clothes. Woops. Maybe starting with a double shot wasn’t such a good idea.

You come to the conclusion that combining an extremely overactive nervous system with caffeination is rather deadly for anyone who comes in contact with you. Well, the human was nice while they lasted.

***

Building resistance to the compound is an interesting experience but you figure out that there is a way you can get the fun of the extra energy without the excessive shaking. It just means actually taking care of yourself and not leaving it up to your mechanism alone.

Which. Takes some time to remember.

Sleeping is the worst part. Who wants to just stop doing anything for 2 hours? When Marius finds out that’s how much sleep you think you need he shoots you in frustration. Which is. Fair.

But with practice (and how come this feels like it’s taking so long?) you learn how to take care of yourself again.

You eat, and sleep, and take breaks from your sketching to wander the halls. Which means you see everyone a lot more. 

And you drink  _ a lot _ of coffee.

So it’s not long before you cross paths with Tim again, this time much more stable on your feet but with the same light glow radiating from you.

He grins in a way that would worry you if your self preservation extended just a little further, but you simply smile in kind and ask what he’s up to.

The grin hasn’t dropped from his face as he approaches and now it’s getting a little unnerving. He asks if he can take your hand.

Oh!

Another experiment? You pause for a second and try and gauge how sane he is right now but at your hesitation he reassures you that he knows what he’s doing. So you hold your arm out, palm up in response. You pull your sleeve back too because you’ve learnt now to keep clothing out of the way. 

His hand is cold where it comes to rest against yours but that is to be expected, you run rather hot. Immediately, you are caught in the vice of his grasp as his muscles tense against the electricity. He lets out a small pained noise and you watch him clench his jaw against it.

As you’re about to ask if you should pull away he manages to spit out an explanation from between his teeth. He’s been practicing, he says, trying to grin, but it comes out as more of a grimace. He wanted to get used to it in case you needed help again.

This time, your heart stutters for a different reason.

He reaches out with his other hand and you hesitantly accept the offer, the two of you now standing in a mirrored grip. You watch as his hair slowly begins to rise, in amused fascination this time rather than fear.

He jokes that you probably don't need that taser anymore.

Your laughter sends another ripple through the waves and you wince in sympathy as they strike his forearms with renewed force.

You loosen his grip on you and step away. That's probably enough experimentation for now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey a fun little tool for any other tremor friends! If you wind a rubber band around your thumb and forefinger when your hold a pen, the tension helps dissipate the shake! I have a chronic tremor and struggle a lot with remembering what caffeine does to it so this is very much me projecting.
> 
> Other thing, sometimes you need to explore your attraction through fictional characters okay? And have other fictional characters tell you it's okay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tangle with conflict of more than one kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people, welcome back!
> 
> Featuring: War-time banter, angsty miscommunications, and foul language (note the rating change).

***

3

***

The next time you run into battle you are resplendent, God-like in your radiance. When you bleed your blood boils and burns those around you that haven't already been caught by your bolts.

You catch more than a few admiring gazes from your victims. At least, that's what you think their last face is. Battlefield expressions tend to be rather indistinguishable from terror. You revel in their awe, and carve through the enemy with delight. It's as though the added charge unlocked your bloodthirsty potential.

There are a few other Mechanisms who joined this war. Tim, Jonny and The TS as always, but Brian too. Someone must have messed with his switch and he thought this one was worth fighting for. Interestingly enough, he's for the other side to Tim, Jonny and yourself, The TS bouncing between as usual.

The first time you come across Brian in the field you try and knock him out immediately, leaving him a sparking metal heap. You were trying for mercy but then Jonny sprints to your side and riddles him full of bullets as soon as he'd reconstructed enough. Well, you tried.

***

So you enjoy your first year of service with a bit more vigor than you had expected. So much so in fact, that you forget that service _leave_ is a thing. Well at least Tim is around for it. You can't imagine how bored you'd both get if you didn't have a renewable source of homicide around. At least not now, with the burn of war running through your veins.

It's while you're watching your left leg sew itself back together that you remember your hesitance to shock the others, and you exhale a light laugh.

Tim is seated cross-legged on his cot across from you, methodically disassembling and reconstructing his guns. At the small noise he looks up.

Care to share with the class?

You breathe through the last of your mirth.

It's nothing really. It’s just, I got used to murder so quickly but it took me so long to be okay with shocking you. I don’t know, just thought it was funny.

He pauses in his ministrations for a moment. Maybe…it's because the electricity is part of you? With a weapon it can feel separate, like you could pretend it's not in your control as much. But unless you're in direct contact and caffeinated, you have to intend to shock us. Or, that's how you've explained it to me before.

Hmm. Well your... assistance, helped too, I think. 

He grins at that, and there's something else behind it. Oh? You mean me getting bored enough to want it? 

Which, ouch, but it must be true. Yes, initially he was doing it to build a bit of resistance for your sake, but after a while it really was just the latest distraction from the monotony of space travel. The rest of the crew tried it out a couple times too, Jonny and Marius taking it the furthest and challenging each other to see what voltage they could handle.

But there was something different about the way Tim treated it, and the look on his face right now is… distracting. You can't place what it is though, it looks wrong on his features… too, soft.

You laugh, belatedly. Yeah I guess, and avert your gaze back to your almost complete leg.

***

These moments keep happening. 

Stolen glances over gunfire and tentative whispers in trenches. You really don’t know what to do with it. You hate to look too deep into it in case you have to let him down. And you think, maybe it isn’t anything, or simply the natural progression of your friendship. Maybe this is just what he’s like when he’s surrounded by violence (and that really wouldn’t be the strangest response you’ve seen out of the crew). 

But you remember every time he came looking for you for ‘shock practice’ and out of context it really was just ‘can I hold your hand?’ and what do you do with _that_?

Nothing apparently. The war ends, as they all do, and the five of you inevitably return to the Aurora. While things are obviously never ‘normal’ here, it goes back to what is usual.

Except for these… moments. You swear it’s going to drive you mad because he's not _actually doing_ anything. He’s just... looking at you. A lot. It's not exactly debilitating in its distraction so you make the decision to continue what you always do; drinking coffee, making maps, and annoying the hell out of Ivy with said maps.

But there's something else. Shortly after the five of you return, something... shifts in the way the whole crew is treating you. You don't know what to call it really, they're just closer. Their gazes stick to you for a few more seconds then necessary, and they seem to be finding more and more excuses to brush past you.

They keep whispering just out of earshot or if you walk into a room they'll go quiet and you'll have nothing to go off but Tim's red soaked cheeks. When you ask Ivy or Aurora they only give you amused, false ignorance. It's… grating.

That uneasy feeling keeps growing in your gut until Tim apparently gets bored of your apathy towards his strange one-sided staring contest. It’s almost as though, when he realises you aren’t going to respond, he ups his game. Hard.

Unlike before, when he was simply watching you whenever you wandered into the common spaces, now he’ll seek you out just to spend time with you. At first you thought he’d just gotten very interested in the stars and, as such, you’re very responsive to his… advances. Because he's the only one who isn't treating you any differently, he’s just around more.

So you decide to respond in kind, following him back to the armoury when he invites you, appearing in the turret booth and asking him to explain his modifications. He is still giving you those strange looks every now and again though (and especially when he gets you to test out the latest plasma rifle and you’re decidedly _not_ thinking about why).

You are having a lot more fun now you have something to work with. You’re enjoying pointing out the little anachronistic properties of one of your favorite systems when you glance back up to gauge his reaction. And he’s just. Looking at you. Again.

Oh for fucks sakes seriously? I thought we were past this?

He jolts at your sudden exasperated explosion and then glances away, a guilty grimace gracing his face, muttering a quiet apology.

You soften at his response and try again. No that’s not… I'm sorry it's just there’s obviously something going on. Can’t you say what it is? 

There's a moment where he stutters out some noises that aren’t words at all before a sharp inhale… and a handful of emotions flicker over his face, indecision chief among them. You realise he still hasn’t let out that breath so you decide to break the silence yourself.

Is it something I did? If you tell me what’s wrong we can sort something out! I hated living with that weird tension whenever I saw you and I thought it was okay now and we were friends but apparently not? I love being with you but...

And you thought you were being reassuring but his face is just getting paler and paler. 

And then very suddenly he stands up, disturbing the precarious piles of paper about.

Fuck, sorry, I- look, just forget about it all right? I'll stop all this, don't worry.

As he continues speaking he backs towards the door, narrowly avoiding knocking over your stacks.

I thought you- well, never mind you obviously- um. Just, I'll see you-

Wait! Thought I'd what? Tim, you're going to have to spell this out for me because I really don't know-

No that's the thing! It's pointless. The fact that you don't know is proof that… that there's nothing there. 

At his last admission he pales beyond compare. And dashes out the door. You stumble after him.

Tim!!

You catch him half way down the corridor grabbing him by the sleeve, anxiety laced lightning passing into him. He stops dead. You take your own steadying breath.

I'm about to say something, and I need you to be honest with me okay?

And now you think you get it, and you know this conversation is not going to be easy. He gives a sullen nod, still half turned away from you.

Do you…? Are you… infatuated with me?

You're close enough to see his breathing stop at your words. There's a very long pause where your heart climbs into your throat, it's beating more obvious than ever. You’re fighting to keep your sparks under control.

And then, the most minute of nods. And your heart does something else funny. Because you realise now, and what you want is so close, but you can't have it can you? All of his looking makes a hell of a lot more sense now.

… Right. I, um- am in a… similar position _and you hate how stuttery you sound right now god,_ um- I think, _and oh he's looking back at you now, and the tips of his ears are red and you can't bear to see it,_ except…

He looks so hesitant when he next speaks. There's a fear in his eyes that you've never seen before, and an anger that you have. 

Don't- Eddy, don't lie for my sake. You obviously hadn't even noticed until I let it slip and this situation really requires transparency. I mean, you know now so, if you're not interested just say so.

No no! I'm not- 

And then you decide fuck it, if transparency is what he wants then you might as well go for it.

I'm- there's a word I came across…well actually Ivy suggested it to me. Umm- and it would be a lot easier if you knew what it meant because I'm really not good at explaining? And fuck you're probably just going to think there's something wrong with me-

He's still folded in on himself but at your last words he looks up and puts a hand over yours where you are still gripping him.

Right, well it's.. the word that is… um, do you know what aromantic is?

The tension that had gripped his whole body lets up slightly.

Oh. Yeah, I've heard it before.

You take his response as permission to keep talking.

Yes, so. The thing is I've definitely…lusted for you _and oh the red really works on his cheeks,_ but um, there are, relationship things that I'm just not interested in and, well I didn’t want to pursue you if I couldn't…give you everything you wanted.

You pause, letting your admission ring out. He lets the silence run so you rush through the last of your little speech.

But, you said you wanted transparency and so that's what I'm giving you. 

And maybe there's a part of you that's thinking he'll lose interest now, and you can just go back to being friends. Because really, who wants to be dealing with that? And sure, it's been long enough by now that you know you'll always want him like that but if this is the easier option...

You realise you've still got a hold on his sleeve. You loosen your grip and step back, flexing your fingers as small bolts bounce between them in the wake of your anxiety; now probably isn't a good time to crowd him.

He's got a look on his face and you can practically see the gears turning behind it.

What if…what if that didn't matter? He backtracks a second. Not that it's not important, and thank you for telling me but, well I might be able to fix that?

Fix? A horrible feeling rolls through your gut ~~and very quietly there's a voice in the back of your head that can't deny it's interest.~~ At your expression he seems to realise what he's said.

No! Oh god not like that! I just mean, there's an… arrangement that I was going to invite you into, all things going well, but I guess I can just ask now.

Arrangement?

Yes see, me and the others, the crew that is, are all sort of… involved? There's different levels throughout, like how Nastya and Aurora call each other their girlfriends but, broadly speaking we're all… together.

He pauses for a second, a blush colouring his cheeks once again.

It was my idea to ask you to join. After we got back I was going to come to you separately and then if you were interested, ask if you'd like to join all of us, except that you and I would be boyfriends specifically. If that was something you wanted. But, I just got so caught up in enjoying your company and I didn’t want to ruin it.

Very suddenly, you remember the way the crew had changed recently. You see in a new light the friendly ribbing, the more gentle then necessary touches, the lingering smiles.

Oh. 

So I guess what I'm saying is, you don't need to worry about romance stuff because I can go to someone else for it if I need to. And I definitely want you. That is if you're still, what was the word you used? Lusting?

He grins mischievously at his own last remark and your answering blush.

Well, I loved you all already, didn’t I?

***

It was of course at that disgustingly affectionate moment that Ashes rounded the corner, a shit eating grin splitting their face.

Fin-a-fuckin-ly Timothy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go! TBC y'all I have ideas but probably won't be writing them for a bit, and uhhhhhhhh they may or may not be of a vulgar nature and I'm still not sure where I am in terms of comfort with that so... We'll see :)
> 
> In any case, thank you all for sticking with me through this! It's brought me a lot of joy to see other people enjoying following my dear Eddy's story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are lies that we tell ourselves, and there are lies that we tell the universe. The Starwatcher of the Aurora once used the word family and the universe believed him, for a time.
> 
> Edward has more tales to be told, but no longer can they take place aboard The Aurora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Some little admin bits. This is sad!! This is so sad and I don't know how that happened but here we are. Please take care of yourselves and if it's feeling like A Lot just stop reading? I don't want to hurt anyone!
> 
> Second thing, this is all because of the amazing people who make up the Crew of the Draugr! Our dear Starwatcher's adventures will continue with them!
> 
> Thirdly, this is the first part of two because I got half way through the crew, realised I already had 3000 words and wanted to post something.
> 
> Finally, I know I said this happens 'before' Out but that's not true anymore, there will be a spoilers explanation at the end notes :)
> 
> CW: Angst, Canon typical violence, Non-explicit allusions to sex.

***

4

***

The heavy and easily identifiable footsteps of the Drumbot alight upon the corridor outside your quarters, making his polite knock rather unnecessary. MjE then. You smile to yourself and call out for him to come in.

Although maybe not, after all there are only a few reasons for your dear pilot to come a-knocking. Most frequently, you’ll come under the gaze of his annoyance whenever you circumvent his instructions and directly change a route by talking to Aurora instead of asking him. Of course, you hadn’t done so recently but you’re struggling to remember if he hadn’t punished you for the last one and someone had only now switched him to EjM, leaving him to trick you with this simple act.

The expression you form as you turn to the door starts as apologetic just in case.

But the almost mirrored look on his metal face gives you pause. He steps into the room and the door slides shut behind him. And then you recognise the blinking light of his eyes that precedes the delivery of one of his prophecies. No greeting passes his lips, and you know that as soon as he starts speaking The Words will pour forth.

You stand, your knees and hands shivering slightly, and take three steps toward him and into the slightly cleaner floor space at the centre of the room.

As you come to a stop he smiles slightly at your silent acceptance. Then, he lets his eyes slip closed and lets The Words fall from his lips.

**My dear Starwatcher,**

**You are going to leave us.**

**You will find a new home,**

**And a new crew.**

With each word he intones you can feel your heart clenching tighter, your stomach dropping lower, your hands shaking faster.

**Do not fear, my dear.**

**The joys you have felt aboard this ship will be multiplied by an uncountable amount,**

**As you journey through your stars with this new family.**

Despite his platitudes, you can feel the tears beginning to stain your cheeks.

**You will see us again, my dear,**

**But you will never again be our Starwatcher.**

As his last words draw their silence and his eyes open once again, you take in your own shaky breath and tip forward into his already open arms, heavy sobs wracking your chest. You tangle you grip into his coat as his arms come around you, cradling more of your weight against him then your legs are able to carry.

He rushes through apologies as he holds you, his cold metal fingers carding through your hair, as the bolts that radiate off you spark no reaction. But you both know there is nothing to be done. Fighting this fate will only make things worse. 

You don’t know how long he holds you together. You were never good with time, but oh god do you wish you’d kept better track of it, because how long have you had with him? With any of them? How long will you have left? How long will you have to wait before you see them again? You spiral further and further, and you wish you didn’t spend so long locked in your fucking room. Your breaths are barely coming in horrible, ragged gasps, your lungs already clogged with useless carbon dioxide.

Brain doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t need to. Where the others would have to take intentional breaths for you to mirror, he simply presses your back and forces the used-up air out of you, holding your lungs empty for 7 seconds (you know because he counts out loud), before allowing you to breathe back in again. He works through these repetitions for you until you’re breathing intentionally again and matching his pace.

Your return to calm is visible in the absence of your lightning. Despite this, you refuse to remove your face from where it’s pressed into the junction between his neck and shoulder. He doesn’t complain, simply returns to his mumbled apologies. After a moment he asks permission to move you. You nod minutely, rubbing your tears into brass skin, so he pulls away and bends forward slightly, hooking one arm under your legs and one behind your back. He lifts you up and takes the handful of steps to your bed. Sitting down he leaves you in his lap.

You lean back and look down into his flickering LED eyes. Wiping your face on the back of your sleeve, you decide to air one of the questions from your spiral. 

How long do you think I have?

He thumbs away a few of the marks you missed from your cheeks before answering, leaving his hand to cradle your chin.

He tells you that the course was set before he Knew. The asteroid station you are bound for already holds part of your future. You’re less than 48 hours away. You will find another pilot there, he says. That she owns a business, a cafe. That he has met her before. That she is like us. 

He guides your head back down to his shoulder and presses a light kiss to your temple before continuing.

She will Know what you are and ask you to stay. Ask you to help her build her own crew. She will tell you her tale and promise you the stars. There will be others, familiar faces. The biographer bot you and Raphaela found will go with you, and later another past crewmate and friend his mine will arrive.

You don’t know what to say. There isn’t really anything to say anyway. So, you let the silence carry, curling further into him, your tall stature making the act rather difficult.

The two of you let the time pass for a while like this. It’s not exactly the most comfortable position but you don’t want to break it, don’t want to give him a reason to go. The both of you run your hands lightly over each other, knuckles brushing hems, fingers tangling in hair, trying to embed the sense memory.

  
You can’t let him go. You want to cherish every moment you have left with all of them, but right now you just need to stop thinking about it. Need to feel Something Else.

So, you whisper your desire into the silence of the non-existent gap between you. You ask him to stay a while longer. You ask him to Keep You Company.

***

Later, the two of you emerge from your room. No matter how much you want to, you can't delay your tasks any longer.

First, Arizona. Or actually you think it’s Mississippi today. You’ll need to get her to start now if he’s going to get all of their watches packed and ready in time. Heh.

Brian insists on coming with you. He thinks it will be better for them if he’s there as well. Always less deniable when a literal prophet tells you your future. Almost makes it easier to take.

There's never any point in knocking on her door. The cacophonous ticking that fills the room won't spill out into the hall thanks to Nastya's adjustments. But still, it makes it impossible for him to hear anything outside. They like it that way.

But Aurora had apparently decided to adopt the little bot, and so instead she manually alerts him whenever he has guests.

The door slides open as the two of you come to a stop before it, hands entwined. Mississippi pops their head around the corner, **:D** lighting up her screen upon the sight of two of her favourite people. 

You try to mirror his enthusiasm but it's clear that something is off, and their face immediately flickers to a **?** as they ask what is wrong.

You take a steadying breath and ask to step into the room first. Brian takes it upon himself to start explaining. As he does, you collapse down into one of the many mismatched pieces of furniture that litter the room, most of which are covered in the whirring and ticking collection that Mississippi adores so much.

They clank forward once you are seated and clamber up and onto your shoulders, his arms coming around your head in their favourite imitation of a hug, listening intently to the bigger robot's words.

As Brian repeats his premonition and you appreciate his voice for the umpteenth time, you take the time to be thankful that you won't be going this alone.

Even before he is finished talking, Mississippi is clambering back down and preparing to launch themself at him from your lap. He catches her in a hug, their legs dangling as she presses her screen to his cheek in repeated imitations of kisses, producing an exaggerated 'mwah' noise in between their goodbyes.

Her emotions are different, slightly hard to understand, but you think this is his way of expressing their acceptance of the prophecy, and perhaps them trying to get every piece of affection for the pilot in while he has the chance.

It takes them far less time to calm down than you did, and you leave her to start packing. They claim they’re only going to take her favourites, but you have no illusions of the possibility of her only bringing one bag.

As the door slides shut behind you, Brian pulls your hand to his lips in goodbye. You make some half-assed snarky remark about not getting rid of you that easily and he smiles against your skin. But nonetheless, you part ways as he returns to the helm and you seek out the others for their farewells.

***

You’re not sure who you want to see first. Not Tim. You can’t. Even the thought of telling him squeezes your chest in the worst way. But, if you don’t tell him soon, aren’t you just wasting what time you have left? Part of you almost just wants to go straight to him and wait out the rest of the journey.

You can’t decide, so you press a palm to the cool metal wall and ask Aurora who’s nearest. There’s something anxious in the code that she spins through your mind, but you can’t grab it, head and heart too caught up in your own anxiety over the weapons master. And then a location.

Ah. Yes, that’ll work. The captain of emotional deflection himself. Easy.

Aurora’s voice in the back of your mind quietens as you remove your hand but is still present enough for you to keep a rough track of his movements thanks to the connection with your bare feet.

As you round the last corner a bullet hole appears in the wall next to your head. The snark drips from your tongue before you can think, telling Jonny his aim is slipping, and he better not piss off Nastya anymore. The start of his answering laugh is drowned out by the next three shots and you let them catch you in the chest and stomach. Funnily enough, that’s what gives him pause. He spreads his arms wide, forever poised in showmanship as he delivers his next line.

Come on Starboy, it’s not fun if you don’t fight back!

You scoff and pick the ripped fabric out of your wounds before they have a chance to close up around the intrusions.

Yeah well, had to give you a free shot one of these days.

You can already feel the electricity sewing you back up and mask your emotions with a grimace at the physical pain. You learnt from the best after all. The stench of new blood and smoke has a strangely calming effect. 

What the hell. Rhetoric about ripping plasters and all that. You finally look up.

I’m going.

A flicker of recognition of a universe that did and didn't exist clings to his features, a memory of a very similar phrase from another member of the crew swirls through his mind. Silver blood dripping to the floor that time. Same smoking gun, same confused man.

When are you coming back?

Deep breath yet again, cough and choke back the blood and bile leaking into your throat.

Probably won’t.

Grip visibly tightening on his gun. Jaw clenched harder. Shoulders taut. No way of knowing what’s really going through his head.

Fuck this.

A bullet through your brain.

***

When you come to there’s nothing to be seen but the shallow pool of your own blood, the left side of your head swimming in it.

Well, that could have gone better. Could have gone worse too.

Ugh. You force yourself back to your feet and comb your fingers through your sticky hair, grimace and wipe your hand on your already ruined waistcoat. Next?

You lay your palm back against the wall, both to talk to Aurora and to lighten the dizzying feeling of neurons rewiring.

An immediate response. An apology. Anxiety laced binary through your already spinning skull, but you catch her meaning. Nastya knows.

Well, that makes the next choice easy.

She didn’t mean to, and of course you don’t blame her. And you don’t blame Nastya either. Just because she’s good at picking up on her girlfriend’s emotions. What you do blame is your own ignorance. Aurora is just as close to you as the rest of them, closer even, thanks to the nature of your partially telepathic communication. Of course, she was going to be sad about you leaving just as much as anyone else.

The whole walk to the engine rooms is spent on this unexpected goodbye. Well, more spent on you attempting to apologize and her demanding you think of something else. So, you pass the time with shared memories instead. Keeping a solid connection slows your pace but you arrive at the doors too soon anyway. They slide open expectantly, and you step inside. 

The air is hazy and filled with steam at your usual height, making your glasses rather useless, so you stoop down slightly to see through the gloom.

You spot Nastya wired into the computer terminal at the left side of the room. Despite having just picked yourself up from death, you are far more afraid of her than anyone else right now. You just hurt Aurora’s feelings.

You come to a stop before her, apologies already filling your throat, but she dismisses them with a wave. She was plugged into your conversation, she says. She already knows the extent of your remorse. Instead, she removes the cables from her wrist and stands, stepping over to you.

You still tense under her gaze as she eyes up the blood-stained side of your head, but she doesn’t mention it. And then you notice that she is holding something. Some sort of heavy metal… tool? Is she going to bash your skull in? Again?

She notices you eyeing up the object with fear and sighs. 

It’s not for you идиот. I need you to give it to someone else. Their name is Wylan. Fae used to be a student of mine… No, a friend.

She shakes herself from a memory and holds it out to you. After a moment's hesitation you take it, trying your best not to bump any of the buttons or sharp edges. You wonder aloud how she knew you would find him. She doesn’t tell you. Instead, she’s suddenly very close to you.

Before you can react, she brings her arms around you in a stiff embrace. You flounder for a moment before returning it one-armed, the other still held out and away, grip tight around the unidentified tool. It is awkward and draws out for perhaps a bit too long, but you appreciate it, nonetheless. She was never one for physical affection for anyone other than Aurora. When she pulls away her face is unusually soft.

Good luck out there солнышко. Wylan is a good engineer. They’ll take care of whatever ship you find yourself on. You take care of him and yourself for me alright?

You balk at the term of endearment but nod your agreement, not trusting your yet again tear-filled throat.

She inhales sharply through her nose, clearly trying to contain her own sadness and then begins shooing you away.

Go on then! You have more important goodbyes to say, don’t you?

***

This is all getting to be a bit too much. As the engine room doors slip shut behind you, you manage three steps forward before sliding down one of the walls. The metal of your spine grinds against it with a horrible screech that rings in your ears and just makes you feel worse. Your glasses dangle from their chain as you scrub your eyes, letting your nails catch on your cheeks. You are a mess.

Fine then. You ask one more favour of Aurora. 

Just tell them for me. Please.

You sit back with your knees drawn to your chest and try to breathe again, because you are finally able to identify the root of the sadness. 

Dear gods, you don’t want to be Lonely again. You gave it all to them, your loneliness isn't yours anymore. It hurt so much to give it up, to relinquish your story, to believe that they _couldn't_ _die or leave you_. They were supposed to be your family forever! But here we fucking are. It's you that’s leaving, and you can't even do anything about it. Brian can give you his platitudes about finding others to love but the process is going to be the same. The pain is the same.

You are so, so tired. Aurora hums useless calm into your head as you wait for anyone to find you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: Nasty calls Edward 'idiot' and 'sun' or 'sunshine' apparently but I was using google translate rip.
> 
> So the Nastya situation. The thing about The Mechanisms is that they only truly exist and live as immortals as long as they believe they should. If they don't have stories to tell, the don't have purpose, or that's how myself and the rest of the Draugr have interpreted it. I decided to take that one step further, and to think about the way each Mech tells a story differently. They lie! A lot! But what if they aren't lying? They each truly believe their version of events happened, and in Edward's version of events, Nastya Didn't Go Out. But it still happened to her in another universe, so Jonny still 'remembers' it in this version.
> 
> Are any of you are wondering the consequences of not following the prophecy? So am I :) No but really it also ties into him needing to tell this story, and so he needs to follow the prophecy.
> 
> Also, at the end Eddy talks about feeling Lonely and in my own personal headcanon, yes the TMA entities exist here and yes he is a victim of the Lonely.
> 
> Some of this was a real struggle to write, as I am still not quite sure how each of their voices translates to writing but I tried my best! I am particularly proud of Jonny's part. It just reads really nicely in my opinion and feel entitled to this little brag :)
> 
> Anyway, the second part of this should be out within a week if I can figure it out but we'll see! Thank you as always for reading!


End file.
